


Moment of Nostalgia

by ArcadeSummers



Series: Somewhere Down That Road [3]
Category: My Own Private Idaho (1991)
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, Inspired by Music, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadeSummers/pseuds/ArcadeSummers
Summary: Mike’s presence was comforting in their home of wayward souls back then. Whether it were the addicts coming down from a bad trip or people whirling into hysterics over breakups and betrayals, he was always there to hear them out and assuage their doubts in his own unique sort of way. The amount of times Scott had caught someone wrapped up in the disarming warmth of Mike’s arms during a breakdown were innumerable. Mike spoke not a single word as they wept, but then again, he didn’t have to.





	Moment of Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> Here's yet another part to my loosely-connected post-canon series which was a fun exercise in portraying Mike's endearing air of innocence. I'd like to tentatively progress his relationship with Scott in a way that feels natural for them both, all things considered. Healing doesn't happen overnight and I imagine that there are a lot of problems that would arise as they repair their friendship, but I definitely want Scott's behavior to feel sincere and authentic.  
> I listened to Crozet's "Moment of Nostalgia" a lot while writing this piece, hence the title.  
> Also, as a side note, it may be worth mentioning that if there are any MOPI writers who would be interested in collaborating on a fic, feel free to drop me a line! I'd love an opportunity to discuss these unique and interesting fellas.

The haze of sleep gave way to the clear focus of the ceiling as Scott blinked away the first traces of sleep. Sunlight shone through his bedroom window, illuminating the small corner of his world. He turned his head to the right and a figure sprawled out on their stomach snored softy, blissfully unaware of the tired eyes roving their body.

Mike.

So, he stayed after all.

Scott could hardly remember the events leading up to this moment from the previous night, to begin with. Part of him didn’t want to believe what had truly transpired between them; that Mike had somehow made him a mess of lips against his throat, frantic hands scrabbling for purchase on skin, so vividly that he swore he could still feel Mike’s frantic heart beating like a caged bird’s wings within the confines of his chest. It was exhilarating; it was  _terrifying_.

Growing up, Scott had been socialized to believe that it was impossible for two men to love each other. It was the natural order of things, after all, for men to be rivals and social climbers. If it wasn’t he who was attaining power, some other man was surely taking what was rightfully his. You don’t make friends with the opposing team and you certainly don’t lie in their bed with them.

But this wasn’t them; this was Mike, and Mike was  _different_. In the few years that he’d known Mike, he’d never understood him to be a particularly competitive person. Mike was a peaceable sort by nature and wholly content to be navigate the world with pacifism and abundant caution; though, that’s not to say that he wasn’t strong in his own regard. Scott recalled moments in time when Mike was incredibly selfless, like foregoing meals in favor of feeding his leftovers to the hungry stray dogs who lived in the abandoned apartment complex with them.

“Damn, Mike, are you sure that’s such a good idea? Who knows when you’ll be able to afford another feast like that again?” He remembered rolling his eyes at Mike’s naivety. Mike just chuckled and said, “Yeah, that’s something we both have in common. Ain’t that right, girl?” The dog licked Mike’s face and it only made him laugh harder, until he had found himself rolling around on the floor like a damn kid with a lap full of one incredibly grateful hound. Mike didn’t laugh or smile easily, but when he did, it was all sunshine that illuminated every part of him until the light reached Scott’s eyes and he, too, found himself grinning just as madly at his childlike innocence.

Mike’s presence was comforting in their home of wayward souls back then. Whether it were the addicts coming down from a bad trip or people whirling into hysterics over breakups and betrayals, he was always there to hear them out and assuage their doubts in his own unique sort of way. The amount of times Scott had caught someone wrapped up in the disarming warmth of Mike’s arms during a breakdown were innumerable. Mike spoke not a single word as they wept, but then again, he didn’t have to. 

Scott felt stirring movement beside him and then a yawn. Mike stretched his arms over his head and turned his back to Scott. “Man, this is nice... this is  _real_  nice... wow,” Mike traced the wrinkles of the sheets, mesmerized by their softness. Scott stifled a laugh behind his hand before reaching out another to press against Mike’s back. Mike rose with a start and gasped at the contact, awestruck. 

“Whoa there, take it easy, Mikey! It’s all right,”

“Scott? What’s—oh, did we... ? No, nah, this is—“

“ _Mike,_  it’s all right, dude. Just... lie back down, will you?”

Mike surveyed the room one last time before relenting; lying down to face Scott, eyes downcast and fiddling with the sheets again, though Scott’s smile barely faltered.

“Well... look at it this way, Mikey, you’ve learned a valuable lesson in all of this: Don’t go to his house if the thread count is less than eight-hundred.”

Mike did smile at this; though, just barely and still avoiding Scott’s gaze. He was understandably conflicted, no thanks to their previous excursion the night before.

An eternity passed in the span of a few minutes before Mike finally did bridge the gap that had opened between them, “I suppose you’ll probably wanna get on with your day, then. No sense in me hanging around to hold you up.”

Mike said this as though he were discussing the weather; as if they hadn’t just spent half of the night ensconced in one another like a coiled spring. A part of Scott’s mind cursed him for feeling as wound up as he still did. His father always told him that he ought to learn his place, and he did. He just never imagined that his place would be kneeling over the body of his downtrodden best friend with his lips latched onto his neck.

“You gotta be kidding me, man. After last night? What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“Don’t make me answer that, Scotty.”

Scott’s eyes couldn’t seem to roll hard enough. He sighed deeply and pulled Mike up onto his chest despite his halfhearted protests, still eager to retain any remaining shred of dignity that Scott honestly couldn’t blame him for wanting to keep. 

Mike did raise his head, then, to look at Scott as though he were seeking the inevitable speech he’d grown accustomed to receiving.  _“Two men_ _can’t_ _love each other, Mikey_ _._ _You know_ _h_ _ow it goes.”_

The sinking feeling that roiled in his stomach was almost enough to make him sick. 

“What do you have to say that you haven’t said already, Scotty? Huh?” Mike’s voice was soft and void of any malice, but his face was so close to Scott’s that it felt like a challenge. 

“Eh, I dunno. You have pretty eyes, I guess, and your hair’s almost as nice as mine, if I’m being honest, which I am. And you don’t smell nearly as bad today as you did yesterday, so that’s something you’ve got going for ya.”

Scott shrugged against the pillows and laughed heartily when Mike rose up on his forearms and gave him a measured slap against his shoulder, blushing madly despite himself. Scott sat up and held Mike by the shoulders, pinning him down and wrestling as Mike tried to squirm away in a fit of anxious giggles.

“Piss off, dude!”

“—And you have the softest skin of any man I’ve ever held before,” Scott rasped into Mike’s neck, holding him in place.

“You’re an ass, Scott! Let me go!”

More halfhearted smacks to Scott’s person, more laughter that belied his frustration with this pathetic excuse for a best friend.

“Now why would I do a thing like that when I just got you where I want you?”

“Man, I swear to God—!“

“Language, Michael,” Scott said, punctuating his tease with a kiss below Mike’s ear. Mike tensed when Scott hauled them both upright onto their knees to face one another, dropping the shenanigans to give Mike an out if he truly wanted it, but the opening faded into thin air when Mike caught his breath. He stayed.

“God, you’re a real dick, Favor. I dunno how you expect me to pay my dues, but I don’t have the energy for whatever this is, man,”

“There are no dues, Mike, and... I don’t think there’s any excuse for what I did to you. For what I did to... I dunno. Us,”

“There never was an ‘us,’ Scott. That’s kinda the point,”

“Well, maybe there could’ve been. I should’ve treated you better than I did back then, and I’m sorry.”

Scott reached out to place a steadying hand on Mike’s neck to ease away the tension he felt there, to his shoulder, and then his cheek until Mike faced him once more. 

“I... think I can forgive you, Scott. I don’t hate you, but where does that leave us, anyway? Where do we even go from here?”

“I dunno. I mean, maybe it would be a start to get you some help, man. Maybe find out a way to manage your narcolepsy better,”

Mike’s eyebrows rose impossibly high at this. “Huh? You really think so? But... how? I mean—“

“Yeah, of course. Life’s too short to sleep through,”

“But—“

“I want you to stay, Mike. You should stay here with me and give yourself a chance and, I don’t know— I mean, surely there’s  _something_ you can do to make an honest living; get on your feet, have a  _real_  life. I don’t know anybody who’s more deserving of it than you.”

Mike wanted to believe him. A job? A real job in an office with an irritable receptionist and everything? His head was spinning. How does one even “push papers?” Maybe he could work at an animal shelter, instead. Mike was better at interacting with animals more than people, anyway. He’d come home smelling like a muddy dog and Scott would complain that he stinks to high heaven and force him to bathe before coming into contact with he or anything else in the house, for that matter. Or—

“Mike?”

Mike blinked from his reverie, head spinning from the many choices he’d have if he were no longer sleeping his days away. 

“Oh, yeah... sorry. It’s just hard to see myself like that, you know? Like you, or—or like anybody else, for that matter,”

“Well, that’s good. I don’t think I’d want you to be anybody else.”

Mike held his gaze before finally losing his nerve completely. He leaned forward, throwing his arms around Scott’s bare shoulders, and embraced him more tightly than Scott could ever recall in the few years that he’d known him. Scott welcomed his presence with practiced ease, returning his hug just as fiercely, and held a silent vow to fix this. He would make this right, somehow.

He felt Mike sniffle into his hair and it took more willpower than he thought it would not to break the dam within himself, too.

“Hey, I’m sure you’re hungry for something decent, yeah? Why don’t you go wash up and I’ll scrounge up something for breakfast.”

Mike pulled away and rubbed at his eyes surreptitiously, yet it was not at all lost on Scott. He managed a grin before nodding and rising up off of the bed.

“Yeah, sounds good, Scotty. I guess I’ll see ya downstairs, then.” 

Mike made his way to the doorway and chanced another glance at Scott self-consciously before exiting, taking with him a little noise and a whole lot of light.

Scott fell back against the bed sheets and stared up at the ceiling, just long enough to thank whichever God saw fit to paint the ocean in his eyes.

  
  



End file.
